


Poetic Symmetry

by LucBev



Series: ikkayumi, etc. [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Realism, Nature vs. City, New Relationship, Old Relationship, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucBev/pseuds/LucBev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji has been in love for a long time. Being Renji's reluctant wingmen takes both Ikkaku and Yumichika on a journey of exploration about their own relationship. Everyone is tired of keeping secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

It was early, that time of day when it's light out but you can't yet see the sun. Night duty was over, his patrol shift coming to an end, and he was not really looking forward to sleeping. Getting sleep during the day really messed up his schedule. Ikkaku had suggested that he just stay up all day and just go to bed very early in the evening, but Yumichika could not stand to have those bags under his eyes all day.

He yawned as he made his way home, stumbling over the stone pathway, pleased that no one was around to see him look so unseemly. Always he had such posture and grace, but all that was lost when he missed his beauty rest. He had grown accustomed to getting a full night's sleep, once they had joined squad 11. Back in the days of wandering Rukongai, there was no telling whether or not you would sleep through the night. Always there were interruptions, assailants, nightmares that would wake him from his rest, prompt him to roll onto his side to make sure he was not alone. Always he would find Ikkaku, his long-time traveling companion, wide awake as well. They often woke together at the sounds.

That was before. Now they slept separately some nights, if only to keep up appearances. The more they touched, the more they loved in their private life, the less they made such contact in public. Still, it was hard for them to not at least gaze at one another, hoping that no one would find the truth in their faces.

He was not alone this morning. He heard some harsh footsteps padding along behind him. He knew he was not being followed; he knew no one stupid enough to be so loud about it. Turning, he noticed the assistant captain of the 6th company, strolling lazily along the narrow street, looking down as his paces.

“Red,” Yumichika yawned, “coming home from night duty as well?”

“Heh?” Renji said, apparently startled. “Oh, I didn't even notice you there.”

“You wound me,” Yumichika jested, too tired to truly be offended at someone ignoring his presence.

“I just woke up, actually.”

Yumichika looked around, making himself aware of their location in the Seireitei.

“But-”

“Yeah,” Renji sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn't sleeping in the barracks.”

Renji was met with a suggestive eyebrow raise. Yumichika could not help himself; always he was so interested in gossip. It filled that void, since he felt he could not share any juicy details of his own exploits. They had made an agreement.

“Do tell,” he said, waiting for Renji to catch up to him.

“It's not what it sounds like,” the assistant captain mumbled. “Unfortunately.”

“Begpardon?”

“Nevermind.”

They walked together for a little while, toward the sunrise.

“Yumichika,” Renji said suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

“Yes?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Yumichika laughed. Silly, he thought, if anyone could keep a secret, it was him.

“Shut up!” Renji warned, shoving him on his slender shoulder.

“Sorry,” he coughed. “Yes. I can.”

They were silent again for a few blocks. Renji kept inhaling, opening his mouth as if to speak.

“Out with it, Red,” Yumichika groaned.

“Last night I slept in Thirteen's barracks, on the floor.”

“Okay?”

Renji's face was taking on a similar hue to his long hair, tied up tightly in that ponytail. What a waste. The assistant captain was staring hard at the ground.

“I almost told her how I felt but then she fell asleep.”

“Who...oh,” Yumichika realized. He didn't understand it. Little Kuchiki with her not-shiny hair and her boney arms and knees. “And...?”

“I thought for a long time I was over it.”

“But you aren't?”

“She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. I drifted off on the floor, looking at her, wondering what she was dreaming about.”

Yumichika smirked. That was a real kind of love, and he knew it for sure. For a long time he had wondered about Ikkaku's dreams, until he found out that he was usually in them.

“So...” Yumichika went on, gesturing for Renji to continue walking, “why tell me this?”

“Is it worth it?” Renji asked.

“Hm?”

“To risk a friendship like that?”

“I...wouldn't know...”

“Right,” Renji sighed. “Of course you wouldn't.”

Yumichika tried to keep himself from seething with exhausted anger at what the assistant captain was implying. He had always taken him for a bit of an idiot, so he was certain there was no way he knew. How could he possibly know? They were so careful and secretive. They had made an agreement.

“You should...” he trailed off, feeling foolish for giving advice he had failed to follow for so long, “You should tell her. When the time is right.”

“When would that be?”

“I don't know, idiot, that depends on the person! You've already had, what, thousands of opportunities?”

“...Yeah.”

“Then no doubt you'll have another one soon.”

 

He left Renji to make his way to his quarters. He knew he had made it sound so easy, the act of telling someone you were irrevocably in love with them. Someone you had known for a long time. He honestly did wish him the best, though he too was unsure of how Rukia would respond. He could never tell what that girl was thinking. She was quiet, and when she wasn't quiet, she was yelling. Like Ikkaku, a man of few words unless you got him started. Yumichika did love to get him started.

He was sleeping, like he always did through the sunrise. Occasionally he would be up so they could see it together. One of those things they only did when they were positive no one could see.

“Wakey-wakey,” Yumichika sang, sitting down on the futon and poking Ikkaku on the cheek.

“Hngh...”

“Get up, I want to sleep on your bed because it's already warm.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, moving over to make room.

“That's...okay. Fine,” Yumichika sighed, sliding himself under the messy blankets beside Ikkaku. “But you really should get up.”

“In a minute,” Ikkaku complained, throwing one thick, long arm over Yumichika's chest, pulling him closer. Always he touched him the most in the morning. Like he was in a sleepy haze and had forgotten himself, had forgotten how sometimes Yachiru would come bouncing into their room with a full teapot, spilling everywhere, insisting that they break their fast with her.

He let it happen, let himself melt into Ikkaku's warm, somewhat sweaty form beneath the blankets.

“Too tired,” Yumichika mumbled, wishing he had the energy to share in that early-morning love of which he had grown so fond. Before he would not even show his sleepy face, until Ikkaku had kissed it, on the bags beneath his eyes, insisting that he looked worn out and beautiful.

“Yeah,” Ikkaku agreed, through a yawn. “Tea...”

“Just light the flame,” Yumichika told him, having already set up the kettle.

“This is why I keep you around,” Ikkaku jested, brushing his lips against Yumichika's temple. He rose, cracking his neck and back, stretching those long arms above his head. “How was night shift?”

“Fucking awful,” he admitted. “Boring. Until I was walking home.”

“What happened?” he was lazily forcing his tired body to walk over to the kitchenette.

“Did you know that Abarai is in love with little Kuchiki?”

“Oh,” Ikkaku said flatly, “No. Well, yeah, but I kind of forgot.”

“You knew and you didn't tell me!?”

“What do you care about other people's business?”

Yumichika lifted his upper body up on his elbows, furrowed his brow at his lover standing clueless by the tea kettle.

“Right, I forgot. That's all you care about,” he laughed.

“Not true,” Yumichika insisted. “I care about gossip, you, and slicing people to bits.”

“In that order?”

“In no particular order,” he smiled. He did have a sort of shameful love for making Ikkaku wonder where he stood on his list of important things.

“Go to sleep, Ayasegawa,” Ikkaku said, rolling his eyes, in that way, always, making Yumichika want to slap him, kiss him, tell him to go fuck himself.

“Quit last-naming me,” he whined, laying back down.

The whistle of the kettle sounded and then drifted off. He heard the sound of careful pouring, and then footsteps. The kind that were loud though you knew the person was trying to be quiet. Ikkaku was promptly kneeling beside the futon.

“I'll wake you for lunch,” he whispered, to which Yumichika replied with a sleepy grunt. How unseemly.

 

**

 

_The first time he told Ikkaku that he loved him, they had been sleeping together for a a few months. Yumichika was his, and utterly, he decided, had been told._

_“Remember that you're mine,” Ikkaku used to tell him, before leaving their room to go do anything. Sometimes he still said it._

_It was a morning like any other when it happened. They were having their tea and fruit, sitting politely on the floor._

_“Will you fix this for me?” Ikkaku asked, pointing at his own face, where his little red markings were smudged and fading._

_“Of course,” Yumichika agreed, getting up to go find the ink. People always forgot that Ikkaku wasn't born that way. In that little way he cared about his appearance, knew what color looked best on him. Red like blood, like he made Yumichika feel inside when he made him his._

_He knelt down before Ikkaku, dipping the little brush in the pool of red ink, motioning for him to close his eyes. Gracefully he painted the little spots, careful to keep them the perfect size, no larger or smaller than they had ever been._

_“Stop twitching,” he instructed, pulling the brush away from the shaking eyelid._

_“I've had too much tea,” Ikkaku explained._

_“Okay, then try to just relax, Ikkaku,” Yumichika cooed softly._

_“How am I supposed to relax if you say my name that way?”_

_“Bedpardon?”_

_“Hurry up and finish. I have to look good for you, right?”_

_“What are you getting at?”_

_“We don't have a lot of time this morning, I'd like to...”_

_Ikkaku's face turned a little pink. He opened his eyes, nearly startling Yumichika into painting one messy red line across his forehead. He hated that about him, as much as he enjoyed it. Always Yumichika tried to remain calm and collected, pretty and still. No one else could really change that about him._

_“Very well,” he smiled, quickly fixing the markings on Ikkaku's other eye. Once he placed the inkwell back on the floor he got pounced on. “Ah!”_

_He melted into laughter as Ikkaku began to kiss and bite at his neck and shoulders._

_“Gonna need that stupid turtleneck,” the bald man laughed._

_“Shut up!” Yumichika said, wrapping his arms around Ikkaku and sighing. “I love you.”_

_Ikkaku froze on top of him as they lay entwined on the floor. Yumichika felt his hands and feet go numb, realizing what he had said._

_“You do?”_

_“Uh,” he stammered. He did, it was true, and he was very certain of it. He could not confirm when exactly it became true, but it did not matter. Laying there, his back uncomfortable on the hardwood floor, his hair all messed up from Ikkaku's rough hands, he felt he could stay there forever. “Yes. I love you.”_

_He forced his eyes to turn away from Ikkaku's smiling face. Smiling like he had won something, taken something._

_“Well!?” Yumichika nearly shouted. “Is that all you have to say, when I-”_

_He was interrupted by a different kind of kiss. A new kind, softer than before._

_“I love you too, duh,” Ikkaku told him, rolling over onto his back, laying beside him, their fingers laced._

_“Oh.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“We probably shouldn't tell anyone.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Our little secret.”_

_“Our big secret, more like,” Ikkaku corrected. Yumichika nodded, smiling in relief that Ikkaku also felt that it mattered a lot. He sighed, looking to his side, knowing he had more secrets not to tell. But for now, in the morning light on the hardwood floor, he felt as honest and true and strong as he thought possible._

 


	2. Green

Recruit review was one of Ikkaku's favorite duties as a seated officer. The new blood always put on a good show, and he liked to scout for fighters to join his squad. More people to yell at, to torture in his own way.

He wished Yumichika was awake to join him. They made a good team when it came to intimidating new graduates. Always his lover would give them nicknames, shout them in their ears as they swung their swords. If they cried, they had no place in squad eleven. If they tried to slice his neck open, then they were added to a list. He fondly remembered a recruit from last year, who kicked Yumichika in the shin and called him _turtleneck_. He payed later for his laughter.

Many other seated officers were there as well, and normally he would have paid them no mind. But he noticed Renji, shuffling nervously across the field where the recruits were practicing. He had known about his feelings for the assistant captain of the 13th company for a long time, but the knowledge was pushed to the back of his mind. More important things to worry about. That was, until Yumichika brought it up that morning, all sleepy-eyed, his eyes lost in that fog, the one that came upon him when he daydreamed of other people's love. Ikkaku couldn't blame him; they so seldom had the chance to muse about their own relationship. No one knew, he was certain. They had made an agreement.

Renji approached him then, his brow furrowed like he was ready to accuse him.

“Did Yumichika say anything to you this morning?” he asked sternly and quietly.

“He says a lot of things,” he deflected. Renji wasn't buying it, he could tell. “Okay, yeah. But I haven't told anyone.”

“Yeah, you owe me,” Renji threatened.

“What?”

Renji smirked. Ikkaku wanted to kill him then, with his hands. He grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him aside into the corner.

“Ikkaku, people will talk!” he joked.

“Shut up and tell me what you mean by me owing you.”

“I've kept your secret for a long time, pal,” Renji spat, roughly poking Ikkaku in the chest. He quickly withdrew his hand in fear when the third seat used his trademark glare. The one that came before one's death.

“How did you find out?” he begged, retracing his steps, his entire relationship. He had been so good, he hadn't mentioned it to anyone.

“The Autumn Festival, three years ago,” Renji admitted. Ikkaku felt his face go numb, remembering the slight mistake they had made that evening. There had been so much sake, so much dancing around the roaring bonfires, so much friendly sparring. It put him in a certain mood. While the rest of their friends say around the fire trading stories of war and trysts, Ikkaku led Yumichika by the hand behind one of the sheds.

“You...saw?” he pleaded. They had kissed in the dark, whispered to each other for an hour about their love. He could not help himself that night. He began to sweat; the Autumn Festival was coming again soon. He would have to restrain that comfortable lust he felt in the chill of the air, when the leaves turned and Yumichika looked cold. He had to keep him warm.

“I sure did,” Renji whispered. “So. You owe me.”

 

They left it at that for the time being. Ikkaku tried to concentrate on breaking in the new blood, to get his mind off of wondering who else might know. They had been so careful, they had made an agreement...

Renji was across the field again, standing next to little Kuchiki. Rukia. He had little interest in the wiles of women, or of anyone really, except for Yumichika, but he tried to see her through Renji's eyes. She was little but not frail. She had a deep voice and a stare that was deeper still. A warrior, for sure. He admired that much about her.

They were speaking, smiling, exchanging little flicks of the wrist to one another's arms. Flirting? He guessed. He knew nothing about it. You either love someone or you don't. That had been his conviction. Until he met Yumichika so many years ago, and he had never felt more confused.

He supposed he should help his friend. He was not a bad man, even if he was resorting to blackmail. He still deserved some kind of happiness. It was hard to find in this life, anywhere outside of battle.

The Autumn Festival was just around the corner.

His eye was caught by a young recruit, a tall and wide boy who stood with his arms crossed in the center of the training field. He had no sparring partner. Ikkaku made his way through the crowd, his sword resting over his shoulders, until he met the young man.

“Something the matter?” he demanded, searching the recruit's face.

“Weaklings,” he spat, looking around at his fellow novices.

“Ah,” Ikkaku laughed, swinging his sword around to the front of his body, “I suppose you think you're too good for them.”

“Damn right,” the young man insisted, staring Ikkaku in the face. “This is a waste of time.”

“Is that so?”

“I'll be a seated officer soon. I don't need to be surveyed by the old blood.”

“Who are you calling old?” he heard a familiar voice say from behind. Turning, he saw Yumichika, looking well-rested and clean. It had only been five hours since he had left him to sleep.

“Yumichika,” Ikkaku said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “You're awake.”

“I decided I couldn't bear missing out on all this.”

The young recruit was looking Yumichika up and down, as if confused. People often underestimated him, because of his fair skin and neat appearance. They were always wrong. Yumichika drew his sword, lifted it to the young man's chest.

“What-” he stammered, his big hands gripping the hilt of his own weapon.

“If you think you're so good, challenge me for my seat,” Yumichika said. Ikkaku laughed out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. He knew his lover was humoring the boy, that there was no chance he'd offer up his seat to anyone if he had the slightest intention of losing. “Fifth. Squad eleven.”

There was a crowd gathering. The whole field had made a circle around the scene. Ikkaku noticed Renji and Rukia, still side by side, staring in vicarious embarrassment at the haughty recruit.

“Yeah!” Renji shouted, “Kick that pretty boy's ass!”

“Fuck you, Red,” Yumichika said through a toothy smile. “'Kaku...Give us some room.”

Ikkaku obliged, went over to stand with Renji and Rukia. He tried not to blush at the public use of his abbreviated name, the one usually whispered to him in his ear, or shouted in a panting desperation in the quiet night.

He saw that Rukia's hand was resting on Renji's arm. She was feigning anticipation of the outcome of the pending fight. Renji's smile was wide. Ikkaku sighed at the sight. He would have to help. He was ashamed to admit it, but he wanted his friend to be happy. Keeping a secret like that was excruciating; the pain of it only went away in the heat of a good fight.

It was over quickly. The young man was on the ground, the sharp, single blade of Yumichika's unreleased zanpakuto touching him gently on the neck. Yumichika had one graceful foot resting on the recruit's chest.

“You made that pretty boring,” he yawned, removing his foot and sheathing his sword. He lifted the recruit by the collar, brought their faces close together. “Work your way up from the bottom like the rest of us.”

He threw him back onto the dusty ground, whipping the long, braided portion of his hair over his shoulder. It nearly knocked the wind out of Ikkaku, that grace, that flair. He thought of how that braided hair flew around, becoming undone and messy, when Yumichika was on top of him. Bright as the sun.

Renji decided he had seen enough, apparently. He had bid Rukia goodbye with a nervous and awkward pat on the head. Ikkaku chased after him before he got the chance to leave, tugging at his sleeve like a child.

“Bring her to the Autumn Festival,” Ikkaku suggested.

“Right, I'll take relationship advice from you,” Renji jested, rolling his eyes. “You can't even admit that you're in love.”

“Keep your voice down,” Ikkaku scolded, looking around. Yumichika was still standing by his easily defeated foe, being fawned over by other recruits. Men and women alike. Ikkaku squinted his eyes. He knew his lover enjoyed all that attention.

“But,” Renji mused, placing his fingers on his chin, “That's actually not a bad idea.”

“Idiot.”

“Shut your mouth, Madarame.”

“Don't last-name me, Abarai.”

 

_The dreams were coming just about every night back then. He would lay down with the intention of not dreaming at all, trying to clear his mind. Often there was little space and they shared a bed, which did not make his task any easier._

_They had saved up enough money from fighting to rent out a small cabin in one of the finer districts of Rukongai for a week. A welcome respite from their traveling. It was not a big place, hence why they still slept side-by-side. It was a clear night, and the windows were open._

_“Isn't that dangerous?” Ikkaku asked as Yumichika pushed up the window screen._

_“Are you worried?” he asked. “A brave man like you?”_

_Ikkaku blushed, not wanting to admit that he was actually worried. Not for himself. He knew Yumichika could handle a fight, had seen it first hand, but he found he had this desire to protect him. He was worried he would not always be able to do so, if he was too wrapped up in his lustful dreams._

_But the cool, nighttime breeze relaxed him, lulled him into slumber. Yumichika was at his side, like always, facing the other direction, his long hair spilling over the bed. It was the last sight he saw before he fell asleep._

_They were in a dark forest, all of the sky blocked out by thick trees. There was no telling whether it was night or day. Yumichika was leading him by the hand, wearing a loose and soft green kimono, the color and fabric rich like the forest around them._

_The scene changed; they were in an open meadow, moonlight seeping in through the canopy onto the grass all wet with dew. Yumichika laid him down in a bed of lilies, the vines and petals forming a lofty bed on the dewy ground. It was warm there, like being held. Yumichika slowly removed his green kimono and laid it over them both like a blanket. He began whispering words he could not make out into Ikkaku's ear. The sounds were as beautiful as he who made them, though they meant nothing and sounded so foreign. They laid there until the sun came up; the lilies and vines curled and dried up in the harsh light, and he found he was alone in the meadow._

_He awoke suddenly, gasping and sweating, his hands dancing around the bed to find Yumichika. He was gone, leaving an empty space, dry, because he did not sweat in his sleep like Ikkaku did. Panting, he got up and looked around. There were only so many places he could have gone._

_He threw open the sliding door at the front of the cabin, and was relieved to see Yumichika sitting on the wooden steps, braiding his hair into one long plait. Ikkaku exhaled in relief._

_“'Kaku,” his partner cooed, causing that now-familiar stirring of lust. “Can't sleep? Me neither. Will you watch the sun come up?”_

_He nodded and took a seat next to him on the steps, hoping that soon they could lay in a bed of flowers and vines together, and that when the sun came up he would not be alone._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> help me i love them too much


	3. Chokehold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!

They spent a lot of time together. They met up almost every day. Why should this be any different? She would hardly see it as a romantic invitation.

“Will you go to the Autumn Festival with me?” he asked himself in the mirror. He grimaced, feeling like a schoolchild, all nervous and smiling.

It was stupid, he knew. He had fought and won many battles, faced off against horrors some men only dream of. He had lost friends and comrades, watched them as they died at the hands of his enemies. For much of it she had been at his side, brave and capable. She never cried.

He supposed his fear was that she had not yet forgiven him enough to be able to love him. Again, or for the first time, he couldn't be certain. He had hurt her in many ways in recent years, and though when she saw him she smiled, he knew that her heart still ached. He knew he was not the smartest man within those high, white walls, but he knew Rukia. Better than anything.

He cursed Ikkaku under his breath, hating him momentarily for putting ideas in his head. He felt he ought to out him, paint a large banner and hang it in a public square. He supposed he and Yumichika had their reasons for keeping their love a secret. But also he knew how much it must hurt.

He left the mirror to go sit at his desk, a small luxury afforded by his rank. He had paperwork to do. A veritable mountain of it, all sloppily stacked, threatening to fall to the floor with the slightest provocation. He welcomed the distraction. Officer evaluations. Budget requests. One of those cards “from everyone” he had to sign for someone's birthday. Never in all his years had he imagined this would be his life. Forms and cards and a fancy desk. He had been such a vagabond. But still, he was happy that one thing had not changed: Rukia was still there. He had lost her once and that was enough.

“Renji,” he heard a stern voice say from the doorway.

“Captain,” he stammered, sliding out his chair and standing to greet him.

“Did you see any promising recruits at the review today?” Byakuya asked, striding over to look out the window that faced the training field.

“Yes, sir,” Renji replied, walking over to join his captain. “I've put their names on a list. There was one in particular...”

“Yes?”

“He had a good spirit, I could tell,” Renji mused, remembering how that tall, wide boy had folded his arms, so gleefully accepted a challenge from a far superior officer. “He'll need to be broken, but I'm sure-”

“Is this the one I've been hearing jokes about? The young man who was nearly slain by Ayasegawa?”

“Yeah.”

“There's no room for such insolence in these barracks. I'll not be disrespected, you know that.”

Byakuya was still gazing out the window. Renji felt a little afraid, wondering if the captain knew about his feelings. In love with his little sister, his pride, his only true care in the whole world. Disrespect, indeed. He had hated him once, the one who stole Rukia away from him. But his hatred faded as he came to terms with their common concern. Sometimes it seemed like she was all that mattered.

“However,” Byakuya went on, nearly startling Renji as he had started to daydream. Her eyes, her hands. “You were once so hot-headed.”

“Yeah?”

Byakuya stared at the floor for a moment before looking back up at Renji, stern as ever but with a new softness to his features.

“I have come to respect you greatly, with time.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

“There's no one I would trust more, with...” he trailed off, folding his arms across his chest. “She does not need protection. But still...”

Renji's face felt warm, and he knew it must be obvious.   
“Byakuya...” Renji was a little stunned. Never had his captain struggled so much to put something into words. He wanted to laugh, such a respected and dignified man stammering aimlessly. That was what Rukia did to people. She rendered them a little useless, a little baffled and confused.

“Perhaps I've said too much,” the captain coughed, turning swiftly on his heels to exit the small office. Renji wanted to beg him to go on, to give his blessing. “There's dinner at the manor tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Join us, if you will.”

As the captain walked away, Renji came to the realization that he had been provided with a clear opportunity. Feverishly he made his way back to his desk and grabbed a blank piece of paper and a pen and inkwell. He tried to keep it simple, went through pages and pages before he settled on something.

_Rukia,_

 

_Let's go to the Autumn Festival together._

 

_Renji_

 

He smirked, knowing that it was perhaps too simple. She would laugh at him for not just saying it out loud. She would tell him she assumed they were both going anyway. He wished that she would read his words and know where he meant emphasis. _Together_. As in, hand-in-hand. With her head on his shoulder during the fireworks and beside the roaring fire.

He tucked the note into his pocket, began to rush through the remainder of his paperwork, trying to think of anything but her slim and small hands beneath the table at the Kuchiki Manor, her polite chewing of the gourmet food, how she might laugh at his jokes. Stray dogs once again, out of place in that fancy dining room. He wanted to grab those little hands beneath that long table, hide with her beneath the silky cloth and place the note in her pocket himself. Mischief like they used to cause.

 

_He watched in agony as her fingers rubbed the red marks on her neck. He had put them there, like a fool. He had felt so angry, but he struggled to admit the real reason why. He told himself he was furious that she had broken a law, that she had gotten herself in so much trouble. But then, walking her slowly, her death march, back to the Soul Society, he knew the real reason for his rage._

_She had left. She had given up her powers to a strange boy. She had cried when that boy lay bleeding on the ground. Rukia never cried._

_He wanted to apologize for hurting her, for how it felt like catharsis. He didn't need to keep his hand on her shoulder, for she had nowhere to run, but still he rested it there. She would not meet his eyes, coughed now and again, reminding him of her injury._

_How could she ever love him now?_

_It was too late. He could only try to change his feelings. He could only feed that aggression, that spite. His love would have to turn to hate if ever he would recover._

_The captain walked a few paces ahead of them, and would not turn to look back at his assistant captain with the life of his sister literally in his hands. Such long fingers digging into her clavicle. Once he had longed to use them differently, gently as he could, though always he knew he was too rough. But he had made his choice. The time had passed when he could instead gather her up in his arms, carry her not to a jail cell but to his bed, heal those wounds he had caused. She would not have him now. Perhaps she had found love in the living world._

_He knew he had to keep his secret now, forever. Bury it until he changed him, until it disappeared._

_He knew he had to stop dreaming about her in that way. The memories of when they were young. How he watched her grow up, blooming into beautiful, porcelain-petaled Rukia. He knew he had to freeze like she could freeze the air around her, that he could not let himself melt before her as he had always done._

_She met his gaze for a brief moment, looking up at him from her captured state. Had her eyes always been so violet? Had her skin always been so fair?_

_He ignored that thumping, that stirring in his chest. He buried it. He buried his love alive, before its time._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am crying maybe?????


	4. Punch

Outwardly, Rukia acted like she detested those big family dinners. All important people, dressed well, sipping drinks out of comically small glasses and talking about nothing at all.

But she loved it, in her own way. She loved the gown she had been given, with its silk sash and floral print. She loved sitting near the head of the table, beside her brother, all the other eyes gazing upon her with admiration. She allowed herself that pleasure, that pride.

Always her brother would invite guests of great social stature. Fellow nobles, other captains. She had come to know what to expect. A haughty laugh at some old man's terrible jokes, picking at her food like a bird. But all the while she would grin, knowing she looked well in her formal wear, that her brother would be pleased by her politeness.

She had expected that evening to be no different.

She was walking around the foyer, searching for a pin with which to secure the back of her dress. Everything was too big on her, always, and it made her feel like a child.

“Brother!” she shouted, letting herself sound exasperated. “Where's the sewing kit?”

She was met with no answer, so she grunted and began digging through one of the many closets, the back of her dress hanging open down to the waist.

“Uh, am I early?” she heard a quaking voice say behind her. She stood up quickly and hit her head on something hanging in the closet.

“Ow,” she mumbled. When she turned around she saw Renji, in his newly-cleaned and pressed uniform, hair tied more neatly than ever at the crown of his head. “R-Renji?”

“Did Byakuya not tell you I was invited?”

“Renji,” she softened, attempting to hold her dress closed. “You're _always_ invited.”

It was true, but she knew he was too bashful to take her up on that. He would forever wait for her brother's approval.

On the floor, in the mess of what had fallen from the closet, she saw one shining pin.

“Yes!” she shouted, bending down to pick it up. She knew her shoulders were bare, that the fabric hung loosely on her body. She knew he was watching. “Would you, uh..?” She held up the pin to Renji's face. Swiftly he snatched it out of her fingers and she turned around, letting go of the fabric, holding up the dress in the front, over her chest.

His hands were always so rough. She winced, worrying he might rip the fabric, but at the thought of it she did not get angry. Coy and scared, perhaps. Blushing like the soft flowers on her gown.

“That should do it,” he said triumphantly, patting the place on her back when he had pinned the fabric together.

“Thank you,” she said, turning back around to face him, brushing the hair out of her face.

“You look, uh,” he stammered. Weirdo, she thought.

“There's no need to be like that, Renji,” she stopped him, holding up her hand. “Don't pretend to care about how I look.”

He did not reply, so she shrugged and began to walk into the dining room.

“Will you join me?” she asked, beckoning to him.

 

They waited together in the sitting room, listening to the gentle strumming of a hired musician on some ancient stringed instrument. They shared in small talk, which was strange for them, Rukia noted. Always they got right into what mattered, or they sat in a comfortable silence. No talk of the weather, how it would soon get cold and the colors would all change.

“Rukia, I...” he trailed off, waiting for the musician to get up to take a break from his soft harping. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, Renji?” she begged eagerly, grabbing at his hands and holding them to her own body. Always he had important news, and he looked so concerned. Who had died, she wondered, what awful thing had happened?

“I, uh...” he stuttered, actually beginning to sweat and blush. She felt her heart skip a beat as she realized she had been stupid. This was it, this was the moment she had been both dreading and looking forward to for years. She told herself over and over that she would know her own feelings for Renji when he confessed his, like that would inform her decision in some way.

He took one of his hand out of hers and pulled at his own collar. She missed that hand when it left, wanting to grab at it once again, never let it leave her body. Right there in the sitting room while the musician had his break.

She would know her feelings when he confessed his.

“Uh,” he coughed, his eyes darting around the room, “Did you know who's been sleeping together?”

She shut her eyes and let go of his hands, freezing there for a moment, trying desperately to hide her disappointment.

“Who?” she asked, genuinely. Her own personal life, she felt, was boring enough to warrant an interest in idle gossip.

Renji reached his hand up to motion for her to come closer. Blushing, she felt him move her hair aside to bring his lips to her ear.

“The third and fifth seat of the 11th company,” he whispered. She let out a little gasp.

“How do you know?”

“I...saw,” Renji said, and Rukia's eyes widened in shock. “Not!! Not like that. I saw something but not that.”

“Oh,” she laughed, imagining him standing there in awe, how uncomfortable he would look. Always any talk of intimacy sent him into some other plane of existence, she thought. “Do they know you know?”

“Yeah,” he said lowly. “I probably shouldn't have told you about it.”

“You know I can keep a secret, Renji.”

He looked up at her at the sound of his own name. He began to laugh cheerfully.

“In that case,” he chuckled, “How long until you think everyone finds out?”

“Well,” she replied, stifling her own laughter, practicing her appearances for the banquet, “Now that I think about it, it's pretty obvious. You can...One can only pretend to _not_ be in love for so long.”

“I didn't say they were in love.”

“Aren't they?” she asked, holding his gaze a little too long, fidgeting with the bow on her sash. She saw Renji's eyes get a little glossy, saw his mouth shrink from its usual wide grin to a serious, subtle pout. She could hear him breathing as they stared one another down. It would happen now, she was certain of it, like it had almost happened time and time again. She tried to beg him using only her eyes, _don't chicken out this time, help me decide how I feel_.

The dinner bell rang and she gasped, her nimble hands flying up onto the air in front of her face.

“We ought to find out seats,” she said, trying to be graceful as she stood up. “Whoever gets there last has to sit next to the baroness. The one without teeth.”

She did her best to smile innocently at him, like she had when they were children so many years ago. She knew she could barely hide the hunger in her face, the disappointment. Perhaps she felt nothing at all. Perhaps it was just the gown and the music and the gossip.

He accepted her challenge, began to chase her out of the sitting room.

 

_It was all so new and exciting. Their first week of classes had ended and they finally had some free time. Rest was hard to find as a student in the Academy. Their classmates who had been there a little longer than them informed them of the traditions. The first weekend began always with some party, some secret gathering where it did not matter if you were too young, you were given drinks and a place to make a fool of yourself._

_She had picked out the only nice thing she had to wear. It was a simple black kimono, but the fabric was quality and she had little shoes to match._

_It had taken all of Rukia's effort to get Renji to come along with her._

_“Okay,” he had finally said, groaning, ignoring the way she hopped up and down, clapping her hands together, “but only to keep you safe.”_

_“Yeah right,” she joked, poking him in the stomach._

_They arrived a little late, as they had heard was custom. Already the music was loud and the dancing was fervent._

_She was struck with fear, the realization that they were entirely out of their element. She grabbed for his hand and squeezed it._

_“Rukia-”_

_“I'm not scared,” she lied, looking out at the crowd. “I'm just...I want to be left alone,” she said haughtily._

_“Heh?”_

_“So...pretend to be my boyfriend,” she demanded resolutely._

_“O-okay,” he agreed, holding her hand a little tighter, lacing his fingers into hers._

_After a while of standing around, they were delivered wooden cups of sake._

_“Welcome!” the server said, as if she had said it a thousand times already that night._

_Renji let go of her hand, moved his arm around her shoulder. She felt her face get a little warm, and knew her heart was pounding, despite the deafening sound of the room. He was doing well at his role. She lied to herself, stating in her mind that it was no sort of audition, not a test for him to pass so that he may become the real thing._

_But it felt right, and she felt safe there beneath his arm._

 

_A few students were looking at them, eyes narrowed and brows somewhat low._

_“...the fuck is their problem?” Renji muttered, his grip on Rukia's shoulder getting tighter. They had both been drinking. Her cup had never truly been empty._

_“They're just...jealous,” she slurred, always such a lightweight. “Of how cute we are!”_

_“You think I'm..” he laughed, holding her up in her tipsy state, “You think we're cute? Together?”_

_“Duh,” she shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I'm cute. You're alright. It's fine.” She meant it, even in her haze. She let herself hang on him. “But really why're they...looking at me?”_

_She squinted at them, trying to make out the faces._

_“Is there a problem?” she shouted._

_“Rukia, stop,” Renji warned, though he was grinning. She knew she would get made fun of for this the next morning._

_One of the girls from the group approached them, her boyfriend following close behind._

_“I saw you in class the other day, munchkin,” she said, folding her arms and looking down at Rukia. “Then I learned about you from someone.”_

_“I'm famous!” Rukia shouted, holding her arms up in the air._

_“You're dirt,” the girl spat. “Did they check you for lice when you got accepted?”_

_It was too late, too far into the night for Rukia to be able to control herself. She punched that girl in the jaw, hard and swift, like always._

_“You little bitch!” the boyfriend yelled, cracking his knuckles. Renji stood between them, holding out his arms._

_“She's uh,” he stammered, “very sorry about that.”_

_“No'm not,” Rukia mumbled, shaking out her sore fingers._

_“If we could all just-” Renji tried to prevent any further violence, but again, it was too late. He got socked in the jaw himself, stumbling backward, nearly crushing Rukia beneath him._

_“Renji!” she shouted, suddenly feeling very sober indeed. He did her best to hold him up. His mouth was bleeding. “We should go.”_

_“I'll give you ten seconds,” the boyfriend threatened, cracking his now-bloody knuckles again._

_They ran, hand-in-hand once more._

 

_When they made it to a safe place, Rukia insisted that they sit down so that she could inspect the damage done to Renji's face. It was bruising already, the swollen part of his jaw and mouth. She ran her thumb along it gently, hoping not to find a bone out of place._

_“I'm sorry,” she lamented, leaving her hand on his face, “It's my fault.”_

_“It's okay,” he said placing his hand on top of hers. “You were just doing what I would have done.”_

_“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she jested, grinning finally after so much worry and fear._

_“Still cute?” he asked, pointing to his own beaten face. She laughed and kissed him on the cheek, chastely, quickly, though perhaps a touch sloppily._

_“Come on,” she said, standing, not giving him an answer. She tried her best not to bask in the sudden red glow of his face. “Let's go back.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GODDAMMIT RENJI


	5. Tea and Sympathy

Once a week, Yumichika would meet Rangiku for morning tea. The two of them had settled their petty feud long ago; after their final battle with espada, no amount of their past bickering seemed to matter. They were just happy to be alive.

They had quite a lot in common.

She also knew his secret.

Well, both of them.

He could never tell Ikkaku that he had confided in her; he didn't very well trust Rangiku, with her big mouth. But Yumichika did. She was different now, after _he_ had died, more somber and honest.

When he reached the private tea hall she was already sitting with someone. She and little Kuchiki were pouring over a slip of crumpled paper.

“What does it mean? Why didn't he just ask?” Rukia mused as they stared at the sloppy writing. Yumichika approached them from behind, laid a hand on each of their backs.

“Someone passing you love notes, Kuchiki?”

She started at the sudden interruption.

“Yumi,” Rangiku beckoned for him to sit beside her. She passed him a cup of hot water and a tea bag. Rose hips, dried alongside orange peels. “Look.”

She took the note away from Rukia, who seemed reluctant to let it go. It was Renji's handwriting, asking her to the Autumn Festival. What a schoolboy.

Then again, Yumichika supposed he was no more upfront and brave than this. He sighed, giving up on his usual adherence to social rules.

“Oh, yeah, he's been in love with you forever, did you not know?” he asked, leaning his head on his hand, stirring his tea with the other.

“I-” she stammered, ripping the note away from Rangiku's grasp. “Sort of?”

“He really ought to have told you.”

“You're one to talk,” she spat, folding up the letter and placing in her pocket.

“Excuse me?” he asked, eyes wide with suspicion. Rukia began to sweat, tugging at her collar like she was choking.

“Don't be dense, Yumi,” Rangiku instructed, patting him on the back. He coughed.

Yumichika knew then that it was pointless to lie anymore. One could only hide being in love for so long, and that applied to he and Ikkaku alike. As much as they hid it, as little as they touched in front of people, it would not matter.

He supposed he had been hanging onto one lie so that he may forget another.

“Okay, fine,” he said sternly, taking a sip of his tea. “Yes, it's true. Are you happy now?”

“I already knew it was true,” Rukia sighed, looking away, “Renji told me.”

“How the f-”

“He saw you two. Not like that, but he saw,” she stammered. He could not help but laugh at how she grew so shy and prudish. He wished Renji all the luck in the world.

Rangiku tried to distract them both easily with her latest tales, the newest gossip and rumors. Yumichika tried to listen intently, but he found his mind was far elsewhere. Renji. He supposed he had given him an idea. He should write it down, he decided. Pass it to Ikkaku like so many love notes. Yumichika knew that his lover admired him for his way with words, if only because he himself lacked such a way.

He disagreed; he could listen for hours to Ikkaku, no matter what he talked about. Even when he talked in his sleep. Especially when he talked, so _quietly_ , in the morning, close to Yumichika's ear and only about his love. Ikkaku would never admit to those early-morning speeches. Another secret between them, though he supposed that one was okay.

“I have to be going,” he said suddenly, standing up and placing his half-full teacup back on the table.

“Yumi-” Rangiku protested, tugging gently at his clothes. Rukia was looking at him as well, her eyes pleading as if he had some sort of answer. He could not help her situation with Renji, he told himself. He had no right telling others to act honestly with the ones the loved.

 

He wrote it down, in fine filigree with an ink pen, on scented paper. Ikkaku wouldn't notice something like that, he knew. But he would notice the care that Yumichika took to write it. He would know from his writing how nervous he had been.

Ikkaku had been on the night watch, so he knew he would still be asleep. Quietly he entered their room, holding close the letter to his chest. He smiled at the sound of the gentle snoring, blushed at the sight of that brave and violent warrior sleeping comfortably like an innocent child. He often wondered if he, too, had been watched while sleeping. He hoped he looked beautiful as he lay there dreaming, as peaceful as Ikkaku did. Yumichika shook his head, for he knew he often tossed and turned.

He placed the folded letter on the nightstand, beside the candles and the jar of feathers he kept there. Ikkaku stirred.

“Yum..i...” he grunted, smiling through his sleepiness.

“Go to sleep,” he suggested, running one hand over his tired face, trying to hide the letter from his line of sight.

“Nah,” he insisted, grabbing Yumichika's hand and pulling him onto the bed. “I kept having a dream.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he yawned, spooning him, resting his chin on top of Yumichika's shoulder. He left gentle kisses on his neck, quite out of character, humming all the while. It was one of those mornings when he had forgotten himself, when he cared little about his reputation as fierce and wild. When first they had begun their relationship, Yumichika called it _fucking_. Sometimes he still did, but always there would be a difference. On those sleepy mornings it was more like making love, a phrase that made Ikkaku blush. A rare and pleasant sight.

He took him gently, that time, asking sweetly for permission at every chance he got.

Yumichika left one hand on Ikkaku's bald head, enjoying the little bit of sweat he produced from his rocking, his rhythm.

When it ended, Ikkaku rolled back onto his side, smiling wide and proud, like he had vanquished some willing prey. Breathlessly, he began his flood of gratitude.

“Thank you, Yumichika,” he sighed. “I think I can sleep now.”

He was silent in his reply, offering only a wet kiss on his lover's forehead.

“Don't go,” Ikkaku begged, grabbing Yumichika by the sleeve as he sat up. Sighing, Yumichika looked at the letter he had left on the nightstand. He wanted to stay, wanted to ask for more, like his body so badly wanted.

“I have things to do,” he lied, his voice quaking, not yet over the feeling of Ikkaku over him, inside of him, loving him so honestly, lazily in his sleepy fog. That was his favorite way to have him. Every way was his favorite way.

“Ah, okay,” Ikkaku said, letting go of the loose fabric of Yumichika's clothes. He straightened them out, fixed himself, hid himself once again behind the flowing, black uniform. “Will I see you later?”

“Yes,” Yumichika said somberly, adjusting the letter's position on the nightstand once he was certain Ikkaku;s eyes were closed. “You'll see me.”

He took his zanpakuto from its home hanging on the wall, grabbed his bag, always packed just in case, and quietly left. He sighed. Either Ikkaku would follow him or not. He would wait, but not forever. At least, that was what he told himself.

He had that vision though, of himself, standing frozen as he waited for his lover. For years he would stand, eager, hoping that the letter had simply been lost and that he would soon come looking for him of his own accord.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part one out of two. There probably won't even be a gap, honestly. But, structurally, this is the middle. I could go on about how I built that structure, but I will save you the pain of reading my self-analysis lol


	6. Gone

The festival was but two days away and she still had not given him an answer. She had been actively avoiding him, for the fear that she would not know what to say. She had so many questions. How long? For what reason specifically? Mostly she was afraid that she would tell him she loved him too, that she wanted to go with him not just to the Autumn Festival, but everywhere. And forever.

“Rukia,” she heard her brother say from her doorway. She jumped, turned her head around. She had been staring out the window, watching the little hummingbirds flutter around the garden. Soon the flowers would die.

“Brother,” she said solemnly. “What's the matter?”

“When you last saw Ayasegawa,” he began, striding over to her, joining in her admiration for the hummingbirds. “Did he say anything odd to you?”

“No more odd than usual,” she mused. A cardinal had come to join the hummingbirds, all red and proud. “Why?”

“No one has seen him or Third Seat Madarame for a few days.”

Rukia's eyes grew wide, her mind filled suddenly with dread, with worry for the two lovers.

“Has a search party been sent out?” she begged.

“Yes, but so far...”

“Nothing?”

“Correct. I was told to ask if you had any idea where they might have gone.”

They had searched high and low for them, but saw no clues. The mountains, the forests, the Rukongai. They were nowhere to be found, Rukia was told.

Missing, presumed dead.

 

A somber fog had settled over the Seireitei. Everyone knew the reason for it, but no one could say anything. The fog was thicker over the barracks of squad eleven, or so she had heard.

She had not left her room for days.

Meals were brought to her, but she received no visitors. Not even Renji, who had come by more than once to see what was wrong.

“Tell him no,” she had said to the guard, who lingered in the doorway before stalking off down the hall. Everyone wanted to ask, she could tell, but none of them would. Just like the fog.

They had been in love. A deep, ever-lasting kind of love that was worth keeping quiet about. Looking back, it all made sense. They were always together, always making eye contact during dreadful battles, communicating silently from years of practice.

She and Renji could do that, too.

But now they were gone.

She tired to imagine what that would be like, disappearing with your lover never to return. Was it more painful to die by their side?

She concluded that, in those last moments, it would seem fruitless. One builds that love up over time, so that it can grow into the future. But when it gets cut short...

She wept often. Sometimes she would hear him from down the hall, Renji, demanding to see her, to just talk to her for a moment.

“I cannot go against Ms. Kuchiki's wishes,” the guard would stammer, no doubt dwarfed and frightened beneath Renji, tall and full of fire.

“Listen buddy,” she heard him scold, “She's been hiding for so long, I need to know if she's okay. She's my...” she noted that his voice trailed off. _Your what?_ She wanted to know. She could be nothing of his, for one day maybe they would both be gone.

She guessed that was preferable to living a life after one of you had died. Maybe Yumichika and Ikkaku got off easy, then, she figured.

She hardly slept, barely ate. No one dared ask her why their disappearance was taking its toll.

If this whole business with Renji hadn't happened, she knew her grieving process would be quite different. If she had gone any longer without knowing how in love the two men were...

The morning of the day of the Autumn Festival, she woke after sleeping for a few uncomfortable hours. It was the end of the season for flowers, for hummingbirds. The cardinal stood on the window ledge, hopping, alone.

“Little friend,” she cooed, opening the glass window pane. It hopped onto her weak fingers. “Where did you hummingbirds go?”

It pecked at her knuckles gently as it chirped.

Even the birds suffered losses.

The cardinal flew away as she felt a chill behind her.

“I'm not taking any visitors,” she said, watching the soft red wings flap in the cool morning air.

“As long as you'll be staying at the manor rather than your barracks, I'm afraid you'll have to obey the head of household,” Byakuya said, in that low voice, tender but stern. She whipped her head around to scowl at him.

“Brother...” she began. He held up his hand to silence her.

“It is strange that you should be so distraught,” he said, taking a seat on her bed, “when you were not particularly close with either of them.”

“I don't know why I...”

“Their captain has been leading the search parties,” he went on, ignoring her, “perhaps that would make you feel better.”

She made no reply, kept squinting into the sunrise to find her bird friend once more.

“Your sister was like this, too.”

She sniffed.

“She felt so sad for strangers in their darkest hours,” he was getting more quiet. Talk of his late wife always did that to him, broke him in a way, made him no longer so imposing, so full of authority.

“Why are you telling me this?” Rukia asked, finally choosing to look at her brother's face.

“Because,” he sighed, “even when she felt that way, she did not forget to show me love.”

Rukia blinked, wanted to yell, wanted to ask what he was implying.

“What do you...”

“I won't tell you what to do,” Byakuya said, standing up and striding to the doorway. “But the more time you spend like this, the harder it will be to come out of it. I know that...”

She blinked again, trying to hold in tears. She thought she had run out of them. She imagined her older brother, always so proud and calm, stuck in a dark room, crying over the death of his wife. How long had he grieved that way, she wondered. She knew she was being foolish. Her love was still alive. _Her love_...

But one day, because of the life they lead, one or both of them would be gone so suddenly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god my heart i'm so sorry i will write the rest of this STAT


	7. In Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will either be ten or eleven chapters, i havent worked it out yet

Just when he thought he had him figured out. The letter.

 

_I-_

_I've something to show you. Meet me in our forest. You know the place._

_-Y_

 

It seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go through just to get some time alone. He almost ignored it, crumpling up the fine paper and ink to toss it aside. If he wanted to go to the forest, he could have just asked.

Ikkaku drank his afternoon tea, the note in the corner of the room, his head still foggy from sleeping during the day.

_Something to show you..._

Usually that made Ikkaku's blood boil pleasantly. Usually it meant some new treat, some new thing for them to share in their bed. That bed that neither of them lent to anyone else.

It hurt that he was away, traveling alone. Not protected, though he had taken his sword.

He had to go find him. Even if it was just some seductive game Yumichika was playing. Soft, dream-like Yumichika, alone in that dark forest. _Their forest._

It became theirs after their first fight. Neither of them could remember what had started it. But Yumichika had wandered out there in a huff, chased at his heels by Ikkaku, so desperate and sad. He was confused. He was chasing someone, but not as prey, not as an opponent. Chasing Yumichika's silhouette from the back, in the moonlight like in one of those old dreams.

That night ended much the same, but the flowers never dried up when the sun rose. They made love under the cover of many dark trees, lost in a flood of apologies, or promises. _Never again, forgive me, forgive me,_ howled at the full moon like wolves.

As he left the Seireitei, sword in hand, he crossed paths with Renji.

“Where are you going?” he asked, brow furrowed as he saw how Ikkaku was marching so solemnly.

“None of your business,” he snapped, regretting is immediately.

“She's not gotten back to me,” he said blankly, and Ikkaku knew what he was talking about.

“Oh?”

“I wrote it in a note and gave it to her.”

“Oh,” he growled. Stupid Renji, giving Yumichika ideas. He was forever so flighty, so eager to make these romantic gestures, these trips alone. Whatever seemed the most beautiful to him at the time, that was what he would do. “Look, I have to go. Give her time.”

He stalked off without another word, leaving Renji to figure it out for himself. He had his own problems to think about.

Why had he left without him? Why such vagueness?

His chest began to hurt as he started off on his journey to the forest. Vague, beautiful Yumichika, who could have any man grovel at his feet, but had chosen one so coarse.

 

It was evening by the time he reached the forest. It was thick and wet, always, an unpopular spot for people to meet. When they had fought that night, Ikkaku had asked why Yumichika had wandered there.

_“I thought for a moment I'd drown myself in the murky water,” he said, casually, as though it were as common as any other thought,_

_“Yumichika,” Ikkaku had replied, loud, grasping for his lover's arms. “Don't say that. Don't do that to me. Don't...”_

_That was when they forgot what they were fighting about._

Ikkaku started running, remembering the murky water. That night he loved him in a new way, knowing he had hurt him enough to make him long for such an ugly death. He loved him to fix him, remind him to stay alive. He asked him after about that murky water, about whether or not he would dare step in it. _Don't make me vomit,_ he had said.

He was tripping in the mud, grass sticking to his ankles. He hoped Yumichika would still have him, all covered in the wet forest. He lost his warrior-like composure, ran like a child, like the new blood, panting and afraid.

“Yumichika...” he breathed, “What did I do wrong?”

The clearing where they made love that night many years ago was thick as ever with flowers and tall grass. The ceiling was made of the same trees, a little taller now, filtering in less of the twilight. By the edge of the muddy stream he saw him, Yumichika, looking slighter than ever, dark against the yellow light of the late evening.

Slowly he turned his head, that black hair almost dull in the dark, his skin so pale and his smile so sad.

“Yumichika,” he said again, walking roughly through the flowers and the grass, destroying everything in his path. “What-”

“You came,” Yumichika said, sounding relieved.

“Of course I did,” Ikkaku told him, grabbing his hand and holding it to his lips. “Why did you-”

“I said in my note,” Yumichika interrupted, grabbing the hilt of his sword. “I have something to show you.”

“Yumi...” Ikkaku fixed his eyes on his hands, gripping hard on the finely-wrapped hilt and guard of his zanpakuto. Always he had lamented that it was not as beautiful as others. As Rukia's with its glistening ice and flowing ribbon. He backed away as Yumichika drew his sword. “What are you...”

“It's good you brought yours too,” he mused, “You might not like it. You might draw your sword against me.”

“Yumichika-”

“Quiet now. Or I'll chicken out.”

Ikkaku obeyed, trying hard to keep his arms at his sides and not wrapped around Yumichika.

He took a deep breath as he lifted that less-beautiful sword into the air. Ikkaku braced himself.

“Split and deviate,” he said softly, gently, like begging, “Ruri'iro Kujaku.”

It was the brightness of it that most surprised him. Brighter, more illuminated than anything he had seen a shinigami produce. Many vines were spreading from the hilt of the sword, this new name making it bloom so wide.

“Yumichika...”

“You hold back your true power for the thrill of the fight,” he said, letting the vines circle the two of them, coiling like snakes. “I do it because of my shame.”

“Shame?” Ikkaku wondered, gazing up at the burrow of Ruri'iro Kujaku's growth.

“It's eaten away at me,” he admitted. “For a while I wanted you to always know me as a squad eleven warrior.”

“You are-”

“Not like this.”

Beneath the glowing green and blue, he had never seen his lover look so tired, so bereft. Worse than when he wanted to drown in the murky water. The vines were getting closer now, threatening to wrap themselves around Yumichika's thin ankles. That must be it. The vines could drain you, kill you.

Ikkaku took action quickly, rushing closer to Yumichika and wrapping his strong arms around his slender waist.

“No,” Ikkaku pleaded, “You're still...one of us.”

“You're just saying that.”

“Hear me out,” he demanded, pulling away, moving his hands to Yumichika's ever-sloping shoulders. “You've fought so much.”

“Yeah...”

“And won so many battles.”

“Yeah.”

“How many times have you had to use this?”

“Once or twice.”

Ikkaku kissed him, having gotten the answer he was hoping for.

“That means you're strong. You don't need it. Until you do.”

“Until I do...”

“Yumichika,” Ikkaku said gruffly, taking his face in his large hands, “Why wouldn't you tell me?”

“I was afraid you wouldn't love me anymore.”

“Don't be a fool,” Ikkaku scolded. “You think this,” he motioned between the two of them, “has anything to do with swords or fighting?”

“I-”

“Yumichika,” he growled, that old noise he made when he was hungry for his love, “I'd have you if you were weak. I would protect you.”

Yumichika wilted a little, still letting the smaller vines collect around them both.

“The weak aren't worth it,” Yumichika corrected, paraphrasing their captain.

“I used to think that,” Ikkaku said, “but if you love someone...”

“You would do it anyway? If they couldn't hold a sword?”

The vines were on Ikkaku now, trailing up his legs.

“What are you doing?” Ikkaku asked, looking down where the green and blue was swallowing him up.

“This was going to one of two ways,” Yumichika said, resting his head against Ikkaku's chest. “I'd let them eat me. Or I'd let them devour us both, a little.”

“The vines?”

“Look up, Ikkaku,” he instructed. Above them there was a white lily, petals fresh with dew, shining even beneath the dark briar of the tall, old trees. Yumichika raised one hand and picked the flower, and the vines slowly recoiled from around their feet. He tore one of the petals, placed it lovingly against Ikkaku's mouth. “Eat it.”

“Eat it-” he was interrupted by the petal being shoved into his mouth.

“It's a part of me,” Yumichika told him, taking a bite out of the flower as well. “It's a part of you.”

He felt full, even from that small bite, but Yumichika insisted he finish his half.

“I feel weak,” Ikkaku lamented.

“That will pass,” he was assured, “Besides, we have nowhere to go for a while.”

“Let's cross the stream,” Ikkaku suggested.

“Hm?”

“I want you to walk over it. With me.”

“Are _you_ saying we should do something symbolic?”

“Hey, listen, shut up-”

“I think it's a fine idea,” Yumichika said, pressing Ikkaku's hand.

Together they crossed the path of rocks that bridged the banks of that dark and deadly river.

They walked for a few hours, until they came upon a large old tree, solitary amongst its thin sisters. The branches hung down, as if trained to make shelter. Ikkaku laid him down at the roots of the tree, on a soft patch of moss. The sun was down, it was up, it was warm and it was cold.

They lay their swords aside, nestled as they were beneath the ancient canopy.

The flowers kept them full for days. Their love kept them awake.

It was days, however many they were not sure, of bliss and of honesty. Ikkaku had been certain he had ran out of ways to love Yumichika, ways to please his body. But something was different now. He was making love to Yumichika's whole self, to those flowers and vines that lived in his soul. His own soul was nothing but fire and steam and violence. He felt calmed, more than ever, by his lover's presence. The fire in him was put out in favor of a steady warmth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "Hospice" by The Antlers while I wrote this. May or may not have cried.
> 
> Ps idk if anyone has read Tristan or seen any iteration of it but I kiiiiind of made a reference here?


	8. Back from the Dead

The Autumn Festival was an all-day affair, taking place on the cordoned-off grounds that stretched out beyond the walls of the Seireitei. Renji stood in the highest room of the squad six barracks, watching the men erect the burning pole.

They would light it at the top and it would burn down slowly, releasing a safe and fragrant smoke over the grounds. Autumn would began when finally the embers died out.

He sighed, supposing he ought to head over there. It would be unwise for someone of his rank to be late to such an event. He rolled his eyes, knowing that was something Byakuya would say. Something Rukia would rebel against...He wondered, though he tried not to, whether she would be going. He had tried to see her so many times, to get her out of her self-imposed sequestering. He had once considered climbing into her window, but he knew that, even in her weak and grieving state, she would push him back down to the ground.

At least they would have touched. He would rather suffer many blows from those strong but little fists than go on without seeing her.

He, too, was upset about the disappearance of the third and fifth seats of squad eleven, but he knew that it was a risk they all took.

Maybe he would disappear soon, and Rukia would come out of hiding.

 

He began his slow journey out to the festival grounds, wearing his ornamental sash across his chest, over his uniform. All the sashes were warm colors, like the leaves. Some wore it like a girdle. The year before Rukia had wrapped her's around her head to make him laugh. It fell down over her eyes when she got drunk, and he had guided her home at the end of the night, very much inebriated himself.

It could have happened that night, like it almost did so many others.

But he wanted to remember it, so he lay at her side until she fell asleep, chastely, head-to-feet on her little mattress.

He paused as he passed by the Southern gate to watch as the crowds of shinigami walked by. Early birds. He didn't want to be among them. They all seemed very happy, in that sea of red, orange, and yellow. Rangiku wore her sash like a scarf, and she waved at him, out of pity, as she strode by with her captain.

He wondered what it meant.

After sitting for a while on that stone bench, the early crowd thinned out and he was alone once again.

Really he was waiting for her to walk by, hoping she had changed her mind.

The door beside the large Southern gate creaked open and he looked up, squinting to see who it was. Two men, one leaning on the other, a thin figure melting into one so imposing.

“You...sons of bitches,” Renji growled quietly. He stood up, too fast, feeling dizzy, and began to march over to them as they limped past the gate.

“I need to wash my feet,” Yumichika complained. “Disgusting.”

“Well maybe if you hadn't stepped in the mud so much you wouldn't have twisted your ankle-”

“I can deal with pain, it's the....ugh, it's drying on me.”

Renji was standing in front of them, his arms crossed in front of his chest. They did not notice him until they were less than a meter away, having been so involved in their amorous bickering.

“Where...” Renji tried to speak calmly, and then he gave up. “Where the fuck did you guys go!?” he yelled, smacking Ikkaku across the face. Yumichika raised his arms to cover his own head.

“That's not any of your business, Red!” he shouted from behind his makeshift sheild.

“Ow...” Ikkaku groaned. He fixed himself, stood up straight and then stopped on Renji's foot.

“You have a lotta nerve, buddy-”

“Why is it such a big deal that we were gone?” Yumichika said, stepping between the two of them.

“Everyone thinks you're dead.”

“Oh? Was there a nice memorial service?” Yumichika asked, his hand resting on his chin.

“N-no,” Renji stammered, taken back by how casual he was being. “But they've been searching for you non-stop. And Rukia...”

“Is she okay?” Ikkaku asked, much to Renji;s surprise. Something about their disappearance must have gained him some empathy, some concern for others he hadn't expressed before.

“She's pretty upset, though I'm not sure why.”

“What are you implying?” Yumichika scolded, “That people shouldn't miss us so much?”

“I think it's mostly because,” he mused, and then it clicked. “She found out about you guys and, I don't know, it put some ideas in her head, and then-”

“Ah,” Yumichika sighed, backing off. “She was afraid of losing someone. Like she thought we had lost one another.”

“How do you know?”

“Losing someone makes you want to hide.”

Ikkaku grabbed at Yumichika's hand when he said that, looking around nervously to make sure no one was around to see.

“Well,” Renji slammed one fist into his open palm, “you're back now, so she should be alright!”

“The festival's gonna start soon,” Ikkaku pointed out, looking to the men climbing the pole of embers, preparing to light it.

“We've got to get our sashes,” Yumichika decided.

“Seriously?” Renji begged, feeling that his problem was a little more urgent. Ikkaku stared him down. So that's what it would be like now, he figured. Yumichika, frightening as he was alone, would have a bigger, scarier man defending him.

They ran to the room they shared and Renji followed them close behind.

“Oh,” Yumichika scoffed as they entered, “it's a mess in here.”

“I left in a bit of a hurry,” Ikkaku told him snidely.

“Well then I'll clean it up later.”

“You don't have to do that, I-”

“Would you guys cut it out?” Renji demanded. “Save your...domestic issues for later! We have to go tell everyone you're not dead. And we have to find her...”

“Hm, I dunno,” Yumichika sang, digging through the closet for their sashes, Renji hoped. Not entirely so. He slipped off the dirty, muddy uniform and sock he was still wearing.

“Jeeze,” Renji lamented, covering his eyes.

“You really are such a child, Red.”

From the closet he pulled a simple black yukata, made of thicker fabric for the chilly night ahead. He threw a red swath of silk at Ikkaku, who promptly tied it at his waist.

“You're not going to change?” Renji asked, knowing how long he had been away in that same outfit.

“Why, you curious or something?” he chided, to which Yumichika laughed.

“Stop, you'll make him nervous.”

Yumichika wore his yellow sash like a scarf, one end tossed over his slender shoulder.

“Okay, can we fucking leave now?” Renji pleaded, pointing to the door.

“I rather like being dead,” Yumichika jested, walking past him to leave. “No one bothers me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they back


	9. Out on the Hunt

He knew why they were getting so much attention, still, he could not help but bask in it. As the three of them, led by Renji, all poor-postured and angry, walked onto the festival grounds, they gathered a sea of eyes, staring in awe. Two dead men, wearing their autumn sashes like nothing had happened.

Yumichika held his head high; it would be so unseemly to act so bashful and apologetic, wandering back amongst his people with his tail between his legs. Ikkaku had a slightly different approach; he scowled at those on-lookers, as if to frighten them into not asking any questions. He was ready to point out the flaws in that plan, however much he liked to see that angry scowl, when he got tackled in the gut, thrown to the dusty ground.

“Kenny is gonna be so mad at you!” the assistant captain scolded through her teary eyes.

“Yachiru-”

“Shut up,” she yelled, brushing her pink hair out of her face as she sat on top of Yumichika. “You can apologize to me later. Both of you.”

“Yachiru,” Renji interjected calmly. “We need your help.”

“Yeah,” Yumichika coughed, catching his breath. “We need that sense of direction of yours.”

“Okay,” she whined, “but if Kenny sees you...”

“What if I see them?” a low, gravely voice bellowed from behind where he lay on the grass. Dirty, again.

“C-captain!” Ikkaku stammered. Few people could render him so frightened. Yumichika was proud to be counted among them.

Yumichika watched as his lover was grabbed by the collar, held up to the Captain's seething mouth and terrorizing gaze. Just like before, when first this all began.

“Here I thought you had died in battle or something,” Captain Zaraki growled, shifting his gaze from Ikkaku to Yumichika, still pinned on the ground. “But you were just hiding. Like a couple of cowards.”

“Captain Zaraki-” Renji tried to help them, but Yumichika feverishly shook his head at him. _Idiot_.

“Kenny,” Yachiru said, nearly monotone, “We can beat them up later.”

“Huh?” the captain loosened his grip around Ikkaku's collar.

“Red has some important business,” she said, “and he needs my help. And baldy's, and the pretty boy.”

“Oh, Yachiru, you'll make me blush,” Yumichika jested, to which she replied by smacking him on the forehead.

“Don't push your luck!” she yelled. “You've still got to pay for making Kenny so worried!”

Ikkaku snorted a laugh, though still he was suspended in such a threatening position.

“W-worried?” he asked, his eyes staring widely at his captain's face.

“That's right!” Yachiru went on, climbing off of Yumichika and up Captain Zaraki's shoulder. “Kenny didn't sleep for days and he was very grumpy.”

“Yachiru...” the captain growled, tightening his grip on Ikkaku again.

“Hck-” he choked. Yumichika stood up and placed one soft hand on Captain Zaraki's arm.

“Captain,” he said calmly. “We'll explain later. I have....a lot to tell you,” he sighed, his other hand resting on the guard of his sword, still feeling that shame, that fear.

“We both do,” Ikkaku added once released, rubbing at his neck. Renji opened his mouth, inhaling, as if he wanted to explain the whole situation just to move things along. Yumichika elbowed him in the gut.

“You guys are acting like children,” the Captain lamented. Still, he gathered both of his officers in, resting those wide hands on their shoulders, dwarfing them with his wide and tall body. “Come see me when you're ready to be men again.”

He began to walk away, after letting Yachiru climb back to the ground.

“I'm...glad you're back,” he said quietly, as if ashamed.

 

“Okay, Yachiru,” Renji said, kneeling before her, like he was giving a dog a scent to follow. “Have you seen Rukia?”

“She came really early,” the assistant captain said, “with her brother.”

“So we should find Byakuya...” Renji said, turning his head up to look at Yumchika and Ikkaku.

“That shouldn't be very hard,” Yumichika mused, considering the man's height, his hair, his ornate appearance. Ikkaku nodded, still massaging the part of his neck where his collar had dug into his skin. Without thinking, Yumichika placed his gentle hand there, rubbed the red spot with his fingers.

“Ah,” Ikkaku sighed. Always Yumichika's hands worked better than his own, in every way.

Yumichika did his best to ignore Yachiru, looking up at them with her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted to one side. He knew that, now, there would be no use hiding it. Too many people knew. He supposed that their agreement, their secrecy, had much to do with his own misgivings. How could he face his peers if, after he had revealed his true power, Ikkaku had rebuked him? How could he walk through the Seireitei with everyone knowing his heart had been broken?

But it had not been. It was fixed, safe, in tact, and it belonged to someone else. Ikkaku wouldn't let anything happen to it. Smiling calmly, Yumichika pressed his face into the curve of his lover's neck, there, in the midst of the crowd.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” he heard someone sigh. Rangiku was walking by, already drunk.

“You guys, we need to-” Renji was promptly interrupted, Rangiku lazily throwing one arm over his shoulder and relying on him for support.

“Oh my, what am I thinking? I have to go tell -hic- everyone,” she gasped. “Hisagi!” she yelled, though he was nowhere to be seen. She stumbled off into the crowd.

“What is she talking about?” Yachiru asked as Renji began to walk, leading them, finally impatient.

“Your friends are...” Renji began, wondering just how innocent the assistant captain really was. “They, uh...”

“Red,” Yumichika interrupted, laughing always at that prudishness, that sex-shy attitude of his. Discreetly he grabbed for Ikkaku's hand.

“Oh, duh,” Yachiru giggled, hopping to the front of the group. “I came by to wake you guys up once but you were wrestling!”

 _Wrestling_. Yumichika's face turned red.

“The Captain...” Ikkaku probed.

“He doesn't know,” Yachiru said cheerfully. “You should tell him! Then I can be the flower girl at your wedding!”

She ran ahead like she had picked up a scent. Ikkaku squeezed Yumichika's hand, half in endearment, half in utter fear.

“She said it, not me,” Yumichika told him. Ikkaku looked at him, a sidelong glance, the sly kind that always made him feel weak in his knees. It was followed by a kiss this time. Yumichika could have sworn he heard a drunken cheer from the surrounding crowd.

“I found him! I found him!” they all heard Yachiru shouting, and they set off at a run. She was standing at the edge of the small market section, where artisans from Rukongai could sell their waresat the festival. In the center of all that stood the burning pole, now halfway done, its fumes already filling the crisp air. Yumichika breathed it in deeply. There were rumors that the fumes of the autumn pole were like a love-potion, a drug.

He knew that was just everyone's excuse for the drunken hook-ups, for the fireside confessions of love. Still, he hoped, for Renji's sake, that Rukia enjoyed the pleasant smell of the burning thatches.

“I'll go talk to him,” Renji said, turning around to face his comrades. “Thanks for your help.”

“Good luck Red!” Yachiru yelled, waving as he walked away toward Byakuya.

 

Yachiru left them to go find the Captain.

“I won't tell,” she promised, “unless he asks!”

Before they could stop her, she was gone in the crowd.

“Do you think Renji will be alright?” Ikkaku asked, offering Yumichika a place beside him in the grass. They had found the perfect place to watch the rest of the burning.

“He's been through worse...”

“Those were just battles and fights.”

“Hm?”

“Isn't it harder to be in love?”

Yumichika considered this. He was never truly scared in a fight, regardless of broken limbs, deep cuts and scratches. He was only scared standing in that meadow, glowing vines wrapped around his feet.

“It's hard until it's easy,” Yumichika decided, letting Ikkaku curl one long arm around his slender waist. They laid down in the grass, watching the trail of smoke dance through the sky, watching it change colors as the sun moved lower and lower.

“I'll...” Ikkaku began coyly, lacing his fingers into Yumichika's hair, “I'll love you forever, Yumi.”

They ignored the burning and the crowd for a while, kissing serenely on that soft patch of grass. They nested close beneath Ikkaku's autumn sash, curved into one another like spoons, until the tower of smoke had spread out too far to be seen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there will be one more chapter and then possibly a quick epilogue. Thank you so much for reading and for being patients with my updates! Please let me know what you think so far!


	10. Love in the River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the huge gap between updates

“Renji,” Byakuya said solemnly as his assistant captain approached him in the midst of the crowd.

“Captain,” he panted, so out of breath. “Have you seen-”

“Not for a few hours,” he replied. “She ran off on her own.”

“Oh...”

“I think she went to the river,” Byakuya said, “to see the lights on the water.”

The date of the Autumn Festival was said to be the last day that the river was warm enough to wade in. So many souls would gather on its banks to step gently into the water, to place a floating candle on the surface.

“Thank you, Captain,” Renji bowed.

“You ought to move quickly,” he said.

“Heh?”

“She doesn't know yet that they're alive, though the news is spreading fast.”

“Oh.”

“You should go tell her. It was a task in itself to get her here.”

He ran, after patting his captain appreciatively on the shoulder, a gesture he probably didn't appreciate. It mattered not. The captain had said it himself, he trusted no one else with his sister but Renji. He would have to deal with the contact.

He could smell the smoke from the autumn tower saturating the air as he ran, but it only spurred him on. Some miasma of a love-potion, some drug that made him think only of her hands and arms, of how her eyes must glow by the river full of lights.

He coughed through the smoke, through the crowds of souls, happy and drunk, shouting in the new season. The grass was getting colder, wetter. The river was nearby.

She was standing, not on the bank, but in the water. Up to her ankles, her autumn kimono pulled up above her knees. He melted at the sense-memory, at the sight so familiar.

That was how he had fallen in love.

“Rukia,” he called out, croaking as he had not spoken in some time. Out of breath, flushed with nerves. She turned around slowly, her form but a silhouette against the many floating lights. She wore her yellow sash as a cowl on her head and shoulders. He huffed, not having really planned what he was going to do.

He marched forward, lifting the fabric from his feet, and waded into the water. It was nothing to him, so shallow, but it looked as though it could have pulled Rukia away in its current. So little and bright. Like the lights, like the moon.

“Renji,” she said quietly. She looked somewhat happy to see him, through the bags under her eyes and the pale of her skin.

“Th-they're alive, Rukia,” he said, liking her name, how she looked at him when he said it. “They're back. They're okay and they're together, so you don't need to be sad anymore.”

“Oh,” she sighed, smiling weakly at the affirmation.

“Rukia,” he said, taking her small hands in his, “do you feel better about it now?”

“About what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“You were sad because they loved each other and you thought they had died,” he said slowly, inching closer to her, gripping harder at her fingers, always too rough with his big hands. “But they're okay and they can go on loving each other. And I...”

She was looking up at him, small, pretty Rukia in the river. How _cold_ her ankles must be, he thought.

He let go of her hands to lift his own to the yellow cowl around her face. Gently as he could, he pulled back the fabric, revealing her black hair, now messy from the friction. He didn't bother to smooth it. Rukia looked good when undone, imperfect.

“Can I love you now?” he asked, hearing only the blood pumping in his ears, feeling only her soft hair beneath his hands. “Now that it doesn't seem so pointless?”

Her mouth hung open, a deep silence where some witty remark would have gone. Nothing came. Her lips were shaking, and her hands were resting on his chest. Their bodies were close, pressed together, wrapped by the current of the glowing river.

“Renji,” she cooed. That was enough for him. He lifted her higher, his hands now at her back, and he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, until she opened her mouth more to let him in. She wrapped her arms around his neck, let him lift her out of the water. He heard the soft dripping as her ankles left the river. She pulled her mouth away, rested her face in the curve of his neck. “Renji, why did you wait so long?”

“How long did you know?” he asked, frightened at how obvious it must have been. “Why didn't you say something?”

She hugged him tighter.

“All those years ago,” she mumbled into his skin, “you let me go. I thought you....I wasn't sure you loved me anymore.”

“Rukia...”

“But then you carried me away,” she said slowly, reminiscing. He put her back down, left his hands on her slim back. “You ran with me in your arms.”

“I never wanted to stop running,” he admitted, crouching down to be at her level. He kept going, knelt down in the cold river on his knees. He wrapped her up in his arms, rested his head on her chest, and he could hear her heart beating fast. “I'm sorry, Rukia. I should have told you.”

“It's my fault,” she sniffed, “I could have said something-”

“Stop,” he said nuzzling against her breast, “don't blame yourself. You always...”

“Let's go, Renji,” she said, her voice back to that low, confident tone. “Carry me away again.”

“Huh?”

“There's so much we have to talk about.”

“Okay,” he agreed, neglecting to leave his position. She was so warm despite the nearly-freezing water.

 

When finally he carried her out of the river, away from the many lights, they did not do much talking. He walked her into the woods, to a clearing filled with well-made benches for the autumn walks. The trails were empty in the night, always, for the common folk thought the forest was haunted.

Renji knew better. The only howling through the trees would come from him, making up for lost time, Rukia laying beneath him on the bench.

They made their love with haste, like at any moment the sun would rise. She was so small, but he knew her to be strong, that he could not break her. Still he was gentle, tender, if only because he was so nervous. He had dreamed of it countless times, her body, the joy of whispering his love into her hear until he cried.

They stayed, covered in their autumn sashes like blankets, until all the smoke of the tower had disappeared.

“Good,” Renji said, smelling the clean air.

“Hm?” she asked, sleepily, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest.

“The smoke is gone and I still love you.”

“I love you too, Renji.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not crying you're crying


	11. Love in the Springtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion. All fluff.

They waited for the winter to melt away before they made their union. Yumichika had insisted, stating that he needed the flowers of the springtime.

Ikkaku had asked him during the first snowfall. It was cold, and so was Yumichika, in one of his flighty moods where he would pout and sigh, ignoring all attempts to console him, making Ikkaku earn it.

“You can keep at this whole act, Yumi...” Ikkaku had said, folding his arms in the kitchen as he watched his lover wrap himself in a blanket.

“Hm.”

“...but one day I'll get you to marry me.”

Yumichika then burrowed his head out of the blanket. His hair was standing on end, maybe from the static, maybe not.

“And when would that be?” he asked haughtily.

“I dunno. Tomorrow.”

“In the dead of winter? Are you serious?”

“Some other time, then?”

“Obviously.”

“Is that a yes?”

 

And so they waited for the warm weather, hoping through those cold months that peacetime would continue. No matter how romantic Yumichika thought it might be to wed in a war zone, he could not risk the chance of having empty seats at the ceremony.

“Aren't I like...not supposed to see you or something?” Ikkaku asked as he watched Yumichika comb his still-wet hair.

“That's if I was a _bride_ , 'Kaku,” he sighed. “Also, it's a stupid tradition.”

“I agree,” he said, striding over to wrap his arms around Yumichika's waist from behind. “I like seeing you all nervous like this.”

“Who's nervous?” Yumichika challenged. Ikkaku nuzzled his face into the curve of his neck. “Hey now, save it for after.”

“It'll be different tonight, Yumi,” he mumbled into his warm skin, “like you're really mine, finally.”

“I look forward to finding out what you mean by that. Also...”

“What is it?” Ikkaku asked, turning Yumichika around to face him.

“You'll be mine, too.”

“Fool, I've always been yours.”

 

 

__

 

Rukia had the privilege of sitting in the front row, all dressed in floral prints with her lover's arm around her shoulder. On her other side sat Byakuya, his eyes rather dead, looking around at all the blossoms.

“Brother...” she cooed, placing one hand on his arm.

“It's alright, Rukia,” he said solemnly. “Who am I to deny others the happiness of marriage, just because...”

She felt Renji shift uncomfortably beside her. The whole ordeal made him quite jumpy, she had noticed. Like he thought she expected something from him.

 _Idiot_ , she thought.

“You look beautiful, Rukia,” he stammered, adjusting the flower in her hair, brushing a few black strands behind her ear.

“Oh stop,” she sighed. “Don't say it too loud. I don't want to steal the spotlight...”

“Right. He'd kill you.”

“Rukia...”

“What is it, Renji?” she asked. They had decided against pet names. They had tried. Renji called her his bunny once, and it was nice, until Byakuya overheard and looked on with such disgust they vowed to only use their real names from then on out.

“Maybe, I dunno, one day...”

Byakuya shot him a sidelong glance, and it shut him up. Rukia sighed, knowing that for perhaps the rest of her life she would be caught between them.

There were worse things that could happen than to be loved so dearly.

__

 

They were wed beneath a flowering tree, bent like an archway over their heads. Yumichika was dressed in greens and blues, Ikkaku in only warm colors.

“I love you,” Yumichika whispered as the crowd settled before them. They were holding hands before hundreds of other souls, all eyes on them. Normally that attention would be a thrill for Yumchika, but the biggest thrill of all was what was to come. Promised to his lover for eternity. He almost regretted putting on such a big show. Perhaps they would have some private ceremony afterward. Just them, in their room, vowing and pledging.

“The union of two souls in along-standing tradition of Soul Society,” Captain Kyoraku said, his voice booming as he stood between them. “It is rare that we have the privilege of witnessing so beautiful a thing, as our lives are so uncertain.”

Yumichika and Ikkaku looked at one another, faces softer than ever, eyes both shimmering, smiling in relief that they were both alive to be so joined.

“It is said that when two brave warriors are joined such as this, that their strength grows immeasurably. I always took that to mean not their physical prowess, but their strength of will. The strength of their love.”

Ikkaku's face turned red, so unused to all this attention, to all this talk of his relationship.

“It is only a shame that this didn't happen sooner. Speaking of which, I think a few of you owe me money,” the Captain went on, locking eyes with a few people in the crowd. “So today I ask you this: Do you both, the third and fifth seats of the eleventh squad of the Gotei 13, promise before Soul Society, before the eyes of all things living and unliving, to strengthen your will and your love by joining together for as long as you both shall live this afterlife?”

They made no reply, simply embraced before the cheering crowd, both crying a little, nodding their heads in agreement. They swayed there beneath the arching tree, long after Captain Kyoraku walked away to join the crowd. Everyone was on their way to the party, to the celebration scheduled to take place after the ceremony.

They gave themselves a few moments, beneath the falling blossoms in the springtime air, whispering their love and vows, promising to stay alive forever, to never lie or hide again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin

**Author's Note:**

> stay tuned


End file.
